Suggested Listening: "You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie" - The Submarines

Feel It in My Bones

~You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie~

Mello's house was a few blocks over from my house, and on the other side of the park. It was distinguishable from the sea of beige houses around it by its periwinkle-blue siding and the immaculate, sprawling garden in front of it. Mello's dad's prized lawn gnome collection was the first thing I saw when we pulled up; five little, ceramic men of varying colour lined up along the pathway to the house, each of them with a hand raised in perpetual greeting.

Mello snorted when he turned around from taking off his helmet and saw what I was looking at. I just stuck my tongue out at him in response. He just wouldn't admit that the lawn ornaments gave him the creeps.

Another feature of Mello's front yard that I had fond memories of was the tire swing hanging from the old weeping willow tree. Many hours of our youths had been spent swinging in that tire. I especially remember the times that we got bored and took turns spinning each other so fast that it was a wonder that neither of us puked. Of course, that ended after we had decided to give Mello's younger sister, Miranda, a turn in retaliation for when she had tattled on us. She had been so dizzy afterwards that she had walked right into the fence. Mello's mother had not been amused.

I smiled as the memories of my childhood came flooding back to me. I followed Mello as he took the stairs onto the porch, and then we went inside.

As soon as we opened the door, my senses were assaulted by a cornucopia of aromas. Among them, I could distinguish the sweet scent of melted chocolate. Apparently, Mello had noticed this too because he made a bee-line for the kitchen as soon as he had removed his boots. Having already removed my sneakers, I followed right behind him, shrugging off the over-shirt that I wore for work as I went.

I came into the kitchen just in time to see Mello try to dip a finger into the cooling pot of chocolate on the stove as covertly as possible – only to come away empty-handed as his mother whipped around and smacked him swiftly on the wrist with the wooden spoon she was brandishing.

Mello made a big show of looking wounded; he pouted at her and rubbed at his wrist.

"None of that, young man," Mrs. Keehl chided. "Tuck that lip back in or you'll be getting nothing at all."

Mello heaved a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes over his shoulder at me as if it was oh so very clear how much he was suffering, and that I must agree with him that his mother was being unfair. Quicker than I could blink, the wooden spoon came at him again and he narrowly dodged it. However, it appeared this was only a feint because as Mello turned, she swatted at him from the other side with the salad prongs and they connected with his backside.

Mello jumped in surprise, the look on his face quite comical, and I couldn't help but laugh.

Mrs. Keehl turned around then and smiled. "Oh, hello, Matt. I didn't even know that you were here."

I grinned. "No worries; I just got here."

Mello's mom continued on smiling at me for a moment and I could tell that she was examining me in that way that people do when they're surprised by how much you've grown. Of course, she had seen me not too long ago – but I could tell that's not what she was thinking about. She still saw Mello and me as the havoc-raising kids that we had been what felt to us like so long ago. For her, it really wasn't that long ago – and maybe that held more truth than our own perceptions.

I held her cerulean gaze – so like Mello's own – and just smiled back.

She returned to making the salad, but she carried on talking. "I'm very happy that you could make it out here tonight. I've been pestering Mello to get you out here for the past week, but he told me that you've been busy with work."

I quirked an eyebrow at this and turned my gaze on Mello. "He did, did he?"

Mello stared back at me, his expression schooled and a cool look of unrepentance in his eyes.

"Is that not true?" Mrs. Keehl asked.

"Halfway," I replied. "I've been busy spending time with my girlfriend."

I flicked my eyes back over to Mello to gauge his reaction, but he looked just as unconcerned as before.

Weird...

"Oh! Well, that's good. You'll have to introduce us sometime." Before I could reply, she turned on the sink to wash her hands. She turned around to face me once more while she dried her hands. "Can you two run upstairs and call everyone down? I have everything ready."

Mello was already making his way out of the room before she had finished speaking. Mrs. Keehl's lips curled into an amused smile, quirking an eyebrow at me. I looked between her and Mello's retreating form before giving an apologetic shrug of my shoulders. I hadn't the slightest idea what that had been about.

Mrs. Keehl tilted her head to the side, that knowing smile still in place. Obviously, she didn't believe me. I felt heat slowly rise to my face as my level of discomfort heightened.

Sensing a stalemate, I turned on my heel and walked swiftly out of the kitchen. The sound of laughter followed me out.

There's nothing worse than someone with the attitude that they know exactly what's going on between you and another third-party person – except when you have no idea what that person thinks they know.

Mrs. Keehl was the master of that.

His blond hair, blue eyes, and lean bone structure weren't the only thing that Mello got from his mother; Geneviève Keehl – as the mother of four children that knew how to get into trouble – knew your next move before you'd even formulated it yourself. This, of course, had made pulling pranks quite the difficult thing. Thankfully, even back when we were children, Mello had adored a challenge.

Needless to say, some of our schemes had gotten a little out of hand… and had resulted in quite a lot of groundings.

Still to this day, I can say with complete confidence that it was all totally worth it.

But I digress…

Just as I reached the upstairs landing, I saw Mello disappear into his sisters' room. As I made a move to follow him down the hallway, I felt something furiously bat at my head. Surprised, I jumped sideways and looked up. Two slitted, green eyes peered down at me from the top of the bookcase against the wall, paw extended and tail swishing.

I glared up at it. Damn cat…

Behind me, I heard a chuckle before Mello appeared at my side. "Is Jazz bothering you?"

I smoothed down my mussed hair. "You could say that."

The grey tabby stretched before winding around the bookends, purring and generally looking very satisfied with himself.

Mello extended his arms and the cat daintily jumped down. Nuzzled against the blond's chest, the cat's purring gained volume until it sounded like a small motor. Mello scratched Jazz behind the ears and the tabby rubbed his head under Mello's chin affectionately. The cat opened his eyes as he turned around in Mello's arms to regard me; I could swear there was a distinctly smug look there.

The blond next to me wore a nearly identical expression to the cat in his arms as he smirked at me. "Good kitty."

I snorted, feigning hurt feelings. "That cat could wrap itself around my legs and trip me down the stairs one of these days, and you would be more concerned for its well-being than my own."

Mello just smiled, ignoring my comment. "C'mon, Matt. I've already told everyone about dinner. Let's go downstairs."

With that, the blond turned on his heel and trotted back down the stairs. Jazz's eyes glittered at me from over Mello's shoulder, and the cat gave a great yawn which put his fangs on display quite nicely.

I narrowed my eyes at it warily.

I repeat: damn cat.

Once more we were walking into the kitchen, except this time it was the view of the mountain of food on the already set table that greeted us. Mrs. Keehl was standing next to it, leaning over to put the last touches on. She set a vase of flowers in the center before turning around and clapping her hands once while a grin stretched across her face.

"Good! You two are just on time."

Mello set the cat down and it bounded over to its bowl in the corner to chow down on the food that had been recently placed there. "It's amazing that you can still enjoy cooking when it's all you do for work all day," he said.

Mrs. Keehl laughed. "Besides your father, cooking is the love of my life. Just because you don't enjoy cooking doesn't mean that it isn't worthwhile for others."

Mello shrugged and went to sit down. I couldn't help but smirk as I followed his lead.

Mello loved food – or at least anything with chocolate in it – but he wasn't very good at making it. One semester we took Foods together because Near was taking it, and Mello was determined to get better grades than him in all of his classes (a challenge that Near wasn't even particularly aware of, but still ended up winning most of the time anyways). Cooking was something that I thought of as a necessity rather than a hobby, as the nights that my mother had to work late I always ended up making supper. Because of my experience, I usually did pretty well in the class.

On the other hand, Mello somehow managed to burn salad.

We still don't speak of that incident to this day.

Mello's father happened to walk in just as we were sitting down. Whereas Mello was fair-haired, Alois Keehl had dark brown hair that was beginning to thin and turn grey. Furthermore, he was probably the tallest man I knew while Mello, on the other hand, was of average height. He was also pretty broad in the shoulders. Next to him, Mello's mother looked tiny in comparison.

Mr. Keehl stopped to kiss his wife on the forehead before taking his place at the head of the table.

A commotion on the stairs signalled that the rest of the family was coming down. A moment later, Miranda and Rosette, Mello's younger sisters tromped in. Behind them came Nicolai and his fiancée, Francine.

Miranda stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of me sitting at the table. She stomped – yes, actually stomped – her foot and scowled. "What's he doing here?"

"Who? This guy?" Mello inquired in a bored tone, making a show of examining his nails. "I've been wondering that myself. 'Must've wandered in off the street."

I turned in my seat and quirked an eyebrow at him. All Mello did was look up and flash me a toothy grin.

Realizing that she wasn't going to get a serious response from her older brother, Miranda turned to her mother. "It's not fair," she whined. "You said that this was a family dinner, so I couldn't have my friend over tonight."

Nicolai and Francine shared a look that clearly said, "I'm staying out of this," and then they simultaneously sat down.

Before Mrs. Keehl could get a word in, Rosette was piping up from behind her fourteen-year-old sister, "Matt's here because he is family. Duh."

She then proceeded to drag her sister by the arm to the table and force her to sit down. Miranda glared at the empty plate in front of her and crossed her arms.

I drummed my fingers on the table top and looked around.

Well… This is kind of awkward…

To my left, Mello looked overtly amused by his sister's whining. Meanwhile, on my other side, Francine seemed to be feeling just about as uncomfortable as I was at the moment. Nicolai was probably the only one that didn't seem to be moved either way, ever the unflappable eldest sibling in a house with three other children that have big personalities.

Sometimes I wonder how he keeps his sanity.

Mrs. Keehl rubbed at her temples before shooting me an apologetic look. "Let's eat, shall we?"

"Yes, let's. Thank you, dear," Mr. Keehl said as he reached for one of the dishes.

It was quiet for a few minutes as we filled our plates.

"Mihael, can you please lead us in prayer?" Mrs. Keehl asked, folding her hands in front of her.

Mello put the bowl he was holding back on the table. "Sure. What will it be tonight: French, Latin, or, German?" There was a mischievous glint in his eyes – nothing out of the ordinary.

Multilingual bastard.

Mr. Keehl snorted and shared a look of amusement with his wife.

"How about English so that we can all understand?" Mrs. Keehl's smile was indulgent.

The blond nudged me with his elbow. "Matt can understand French," he said, a smirk playing at his lips. "Unless he slept through all of those classes..."

I just rolled my eyes at him.

Mello flashed me another grin before bowing his head. His hand went for the rosary that he kept around his neck, and his entire demeanor changed. Hair hanging around his face and eyes closed, his voice rang out in smooth, confident tones. One would never guess that French wasn't his first language. "Laissez-nous prier!"

Around me, everyone bowed their heads in prayer and folded their hands.

I did the same, feeling uncomfortable only for a moment.

Despite the fact that I didn't really know whether I believed in a god – let alone the One – the reverence in Mello's tone made it easy to understand why he did believe. It was nice to feel like there was something more, a reason that we were here. Even to feel like somebody cared, that somebody listened to your private thoughts and didn't judge. It was comforting, in a way, and a lot less bleak than the alternative.

When everyone said Amen, my voice was among theirs as I added my silent thanks.

The spell was broken a moment later as we raised our heads and began eating.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

After dinner, Mello and I offered to do the dishes. Mrs. Keehl thanked us before going off to talk with Miranda about the misunderstanding that had occurred earlier. The kitchen, which had been filled with chatter during dinner, was all but silent now except for the sound of running water as Mello filled the sink. We put what we could into the dishwasher before submerging the pans into the water.

We worked in the comfortable quiet for a few minutes, and I got through drying two pans before anything was said.

"You know," I started. "High-school French is useless. I don't think I understood three-quarters of what you said."

Mello's expression was absolutely wicked. "I'm quite aware. Which is why instead of a prayer, I told an elaborate dirty joke about you. After you leave, we will probably laugh about it."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "... You didn't."

He blinked innocently. "How would you know? I could have said all manner of dirty things and you would be none the wiser."

I stuck my tongue out at him before returning my attention to the task at hand. Quicker than a flash, Mello wound up his towel and snapped it at my ass. I jumped and he laughed at my scandalized expression.

Mello's mom walked into the kitchen right after, and I hoped that she hadn't heard any of that conversation.

She paused on her way through and I held my breath. She turned around to face me and I tried to release the pent-up air in my lungs as discreetly as possible.

"Matt, I've been meaning to ask you..." she began. "How is your mother doing? Angela hasn't been at the book club meetings these last few weeks..."

"She's been taking on extra shifts at work again. She says she feels antsy," I replied.

There was understanding showing in her eyes as she said, "I see. In that case, could you maybe ask her to phone me sometime next week? I would phone myself, but if her work hours are erratic..."

I nodded. "Sure. I can do that."

My mother and her weren't as close as Mello and I were, but they were still good friends. If anyone would understand the changes in my mother's moods, it would be this woman.

She smiled brightly and I could hear the relief in her tone. "Good." She made to leave once more, but stopped again. "Feel free to stay over tonight, if you want. You are always welcome here."

Mrs. Keehl left, and then it was just Mello and I in the kitchen again.

Mello placed the last pan back in the cupboard and then let the water out. His tone was strangely void of any of its earlier playfulness as he asked, "Do you want to stay tonight?"

He wouldn't meet my eyes for some reason and I was left feeling confused. "Sure."

Mello moved past me and walked towards the archway, only to stop in it.

"Or should I say..." – he looked back at me, eyes glittering as a reckless smirk took its rightful place on his lips – "Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"

With that, the blond sauntered out of the room and I was left standing there as my face swiftly turned a shade of red that would make tomatoes jealous.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

The rest of the night was spent goofing around, playing video games (Mello even beat me at a few rounds of Mario Kart, which he would not stop gloating about), and showing each other stupid things on the internet on Mello's laptop. We eventually decided to put a movie in, and at some point Miranda and Rosette found their way into Mello's room, and we all ended up squished together on the queen-sized bed.

There wasn't any indication that Miranda was angry anymore, as she joked around with us and nudged Mello in the ribs when she deemed that he had surpassed his quota of big-brother-annoyingness for the day. I thought nothing of it really; Miranda had always been much more sensitive than her other siblings. Her outburst at supper had probably been caused by some other issue in her life.

The thing was, Miranda always felt the role of the "middle child" much more than Mello did. Even though Nicolai was usually successful in all that he did, Mello never felt resentful. Instead, Mello had carved out his own niche within his family and excelled in the ways that suited what he wanted to do with his life. The only time where Mello's inferiority complex truly reared its ugly head was when it came to being bested in school.

Damn the teacher in elementary school that decided posting our grades would keep us motivated. It sure made Mello motivated – but it also made Near a target for jealousy and antagonism from the blond.

I don't know where the insecurity that lead to their rivalry was rooted in, but it definitely wasn't in Mello's family life. Even when he was at his most stressed out, I remember him always being able to relax at home. I think Miranda would feel better if she shared what was bothering her with her family; maybe then she wouldn't feel so down on herself.

In the end, though, it's her choice. Everyone has to carve their own path.

We ended up pausing the movie somewhere in the middle and heading downstairs on an expedition to get popcorn. A few minutes were also wasted in cleaning up the mess that had occurred from when the popcorn maker had started spewing out popcorn so fast that a lot of it missed the bowl entirely and ended up on the floor. Some of it might have also ended up on the floor from the four of us throwing it at each other, but who's to say…

It had already been dark outside for quite a while when we finally finished the movie, and Rosette's constant yawning was what finally made the decision for Mello.

"Alright, you two – out," he said, making a shooing motion with his hands as he stood up.

Miranda left with no complaint after she got up from the beanie bag chair she had migrated to at some point, yawning as she went and giving us both a wave. Rosette, however, was another story.

The ten-year-old narrowed her eyes at him from where she was sprawled in the center of the bed, clutching the majority of the pillows to her chest. "Make me."

Mello, of course, did exactly that. Rosette kicked and squirmed in the blond's iron grip as he carried her over to the door, but it was in vain. As soon as she was set back on her feet, she was placing her hands on her hips and glowering up at him.

"Not fair."

Mello chuckled. "Way fair."

Rosette huffed.

"Come on. I have work tomorrow, and so does Matt. I'll see you tomorrow, kiddo." Mello gave her hair an affectionate ruffle and that was all it took to put a smile back on her face and put her in an agreeable mood.

"Good night," she chirped before leaning around him to give me an energetic wave. As soon as she was gone, Mello shut the door and leaned against it, heaving a sigh.

I laughed and Mello's lips curled into a tired smile.

He walked back over to the bed then and started grabbing some of the pillows and tossing them on the floor. I watched him, wondering what he was up to, when he went over to the closet and pulled out an extra blanket. It shared the same fate that the pillows did, ending up in a crumpled heap on the carpet.

"What are you doing?" I inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he shot back, not bothering to look up as he arranged the objects he had just placed on the floor. "I'm making a bed for myself."

"Why?" I asked. "It's not like we've never slept in the same bed before." Besides, I silently added, I would feel like a dick if I forced you to sleep on the floor.

Mello did look up then and there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes along with something else that I couldn't place. "… Are you sure?"

"Positive," I said, crossing my arms behind my head. I was the image of nonchalance.

He shrugged, but I noted the tension and stiffness in how he carried out the motion. "Okay. Fine."

The pillows were tossed back onto the bed and the blanket returned to the closet before Mello left the room to go get changed. While he was gone, I stepped out of my jeans and set my goggles on the dresser. I opted to keep my t-shirt on despite how hot it was right now.

I could continue to deny that sleeping in the same bed meant anything, but I knew better than to go shirtless. He'd seemed uncomfortable about it, anyways; I didn't want to freak him out any further.

Mello came back a few minutes later with his hair pulled back into an elastic, donning a baggy, black t-shirt that he would've never worn for anything other than sleeping in.

He snorted when he saw me. "I almost forgot that your eyes are brown."

"So did I," I joked.

A roll of his eyes was the response I got along with a half-hearted whack on the shoulder. "Dork."

I grinned wolfishly. "Would you have me any other way?"

His answering smile was surprisingly soft, but that could be chalked up to his state of exhaustion. "I suppose not."

The lights were turned off then, and a few moments were spent getting situated in the bed. Finally, the rustling of the blankets ceased and everything was still. I very quickly became aware of just how close we were to each other, but there wasn't any room to move farther apart. The muscles in my side closest to him tensed with the effort of making sure I did not move and accidently brush him.

Okay. I was wrong. This was nothing like the other times we shared a bed when we were younger.

I turned on my side to face the window and shut my eyes tight, willing sleep to come soon.